When I Give, I Give Myself
by Trumpet-Geek
Summary: [miyusawa, r18] Being the center of Eijun's focus, the center of his world, makes Kazuya pulse with heat. Written for eijunweek on tumblr.


**When I Give, I Give Myself**

 _By_ : TG

 _Summary_ : Being the center of Eijun's focus, the center of his world, makes Kazuya pulse with heat.

 _Disclaimer_ : I don't own daiya (terajima) or song of myself (whitman)

 _Warnings_ : sex, obviously. no plot. probably badly written...

 _AN_ : HAPPY BIRTHDAY EIJUN! i hope you enjoy your present… (written for eijunweek prompts fearlessness/eyes and birthday)

Enjoy!

* * *

Behold I do not give lectures or a little charity,

When I give I give myself.

–Walt Whitman, _Song of Myself_

* * *

"Oh, _shit_ ," Kazuya breathes, mouth open against the pillows and panting. The fingers inside of him crook and twist, vicious and unrelenting. He jerks and moans, comes apart against Eijun's palm. He reaches down with a shaking hand, fingers trailing down his tummy in an all-too-familiar route south, but he's slapped away before he even reaches his destination.

"No," Eijun says. He sounds almost amused; it makes Kazuya squirm. When Eijun had told him what he'd wanted to do to him, Kazuya had immediately been interested, but this is not what he'd expected. Eijun naked and flushed, mouth parted and wet around sighs and murmurs of appreciation –

(appreciation for _him_ , for his moans and sighs, for his skin and his mouth and his writhing body, _god_ )

-eyes like gold watching the place where his fingers are disappearing into his partner's body. He's intense like this, settled between Kazuya's thighs like the negative space is his throne. He's intense, and beautiful, and so much _more_.

"You could come from just this, couldn't you. Just my fingers inside you."

It's not presented as a question -Eijun already knows the truth of it. But it's not what he wants, and Eijun knows that too. His mouth slits into a grin, all sharp shiny white teeth and yellow eyes and Kazuya remembers how fearless he is on the mound, how he likes to fuck with the batters almost as much as he likes doing _this_.

"Say please," he husks, voice low and heavy, curling like smoke in Kazuya's lungs. Kazuya throws him a nasty glare, but the fingers stroking inside of him nudge against that spot and take away all of his frustration in a flood of pleasure that makes his toes curl and his mouth fall open in a hoarse shout.

" _Hah_! God, just -"

"Just what?"

"Eijun -"

The fingers curl again and he cries out, fingers spasming and twisting in the sheets at his hips. He feels hot, raw, burnt through like a forest after a fire, like Eijun's touch is simultaneously breaking him up and putting his pieces back together.

If anyone is going to break him, it would be Eijun.

"One word, senpai," Eijun murmurs. He wields the title like a weapon, voice is so quiet that Kazuya has to strain to hear him over his own labored breathing. He gets the feeling that the forest fire analogy isn't really that far off -beautiful but deadly, heat and energy and life and an intensity that burns anyone who comes into contact.

 _Yes_.

Kazuya scrabbles for an anchor to hold on to when Eijun adds a third finger and sinks them all the way to the last knuckle, twisting and stroking until the word the pitcher is looking for is dragged out of him, burning his throat and coating his tongue with heat.

"Please!"

"Please what?"

" _Nng_ -"

The fingers withdraw, and Kazuya has to squeeze his eyes shut and breathe through the burn in his chest. Wet fingers grasp his chin and jerk his head up, forcing him to open his eyes and meet Eijun's molten gaze.

"Look at me," he says, breathless and fierce. Confident. Demanding Kazuya's full attention, and giving his in return. Being the center of Eijun's focus, the center of his world, makes Kazuya pulse with heat.

Eijun leans down until his mouth is centimeters away, hot damp breath fanning across Kazuya's lips and stealing all of his focus.

"Please what," he asks again, fingers sliding up Kazuya's jaw and into his hair, anchoring him in place.

"Fuck me."

Eijun keeps leaning down, closes those centimeters until he steals Kazuya's breath, too, kissing him with all the passion and focus he puts into his pitching and then some. Kazuya parts his lips, invites that velvet soft tongue inside as he lets himself be consumed. He moans into that mouth, an obscene wet noise masked by the sound of the sheets rasping against Eijun's skin and the quiet snick of a cap being popped open.

He sits back to slick his cock, heavy and red from going untouched. Kazuya barely notices -Eijun's other hand is wrapping around his dick, squeezing just enough to keep the pleasure going. He sighs, lets his shaking thighs fall open, rolls his hips up into the slow, measured strokes of Eijun's hand.

"Ready?"

He stares at Eijun incredulously, jerks his hips up into his hand as if to say ' _what do you think?_ ' He appreciates the sentiment -Eijun is ultimately a sweet boy, always wanting to double-check for his consent whenever they do things sexual or nonsexual- but he is starting to _ache_. His partner flushes down to his chest and smacks the inside of Kazuya's thigh. It's light but it still leaves his skin prickling, and he lets out a sharp gasp.

Eijun watches his face, and after a moment he grins. "So you like that, huh?"

"Eijun -"

The pitcher slaps him again, harder, and then leans down to press his smiling mouth to the red patch of skin, tongue darting out for a taste, making Kazuya sigh and his eyes flutter closed. Warm, calloused hands skim up his calves and down the backs of his thighs, spreading him apart for Eijun's perusal.

"You look _amazing_ ," he says, voice hushed, almost reverent. Kazuya feels that heated gaze on his skin and his stomach clenches. Eijun always looks at him like that, like Kazuya holds Eijun's personal universe in his palm. Sometimes he wonders if he's worthy of it.

When he slides in, he does it all at once, a slow burning drag that fills Kazuya up and makes the breath stutter in his chest. Eijun is hot and heavy above him, bottom lip between his teeth and eyes half-lidded like he is fighting not to come right then and there. Kazuya parts his legs further, uses what little leverage he has to draw his partner even closer, until Eijun's hipbones dig into the backs of his thighs and a shivery sigh shakes itself loose from his lover's throat.

"You feel so good, Kazuya," Eijun moans. Sweat drips from his face and his arms shake with the effort of keeping himself still, trying to allow Kazuya the time to adjust to something bigger and longer than slender pitcher's fingers. He doesn't want it though. He relishes the weight and heat of Eijun's cock inside him, the feeling of almost unbearable fullness between his legs. He tightens his inner muscles and Eijun groans and sighs above him, hips jerking into him helplessly.

He relishes that, too.

They start a lazy rhythm like this, hips slapping together when Eijun settles hard against him, long slow _deep_ strokes that leave Kazuya whimpering and sobbing, so powerful the bed creaks. Not fast enough, but just right to take him apart. Sweet words drip from Eijun's mouth, naughty little things like "you feel so good around my cock, Kazuya," and "you look so pretty like this, on your back with your legs spread." Obscene words to play harmony to the symphony of noises their bodies make when they have sex, and the wet little sounds of their mouths as they breathe kisses into each others lungs.

It drives him mad, sets him on fire.

"Faster," he says. Begs, pleads, whatever will get Eijun to keep going. "Harder." Voice breathy on the edge of a whine as Eijun fucks into him with a vicious twist of his hips. Kazuya squeezes Eijun's sides with his knees, settles his heels into the sensitive dip of his partner's lower back to spur him on. The boy above him moans, skin pink and slick with sweat, arms shaking and mouth open with pleasure.

Eijun is beautiful always, but never more so than when he's made vulnerable with pleasure.

The rhythm changes sharply, and he gasps and sobs as Eijun jerks into him, finding his prostate with every shift and press of his hips.

" _Nng_! Hah, _Eijun_ -" He's so close, so hard and so full and so turned on that the rasp of the sheets under his back is almost too much sensation on his skin. He wants to touch himself, is almost desperate to feel what's building up in the pit of his stomach, but Eijun doesn't let him.

"Don't -" Eijun hisses, teeth gritted and hands making bruises on Kazuya's hips. He's close too, Kazuya can feel it in the way his hips begin to stutter, the way his fingers trace along his sides and chest, sparking trails of heat wherever they touch. Kazuya lifts arms made of lead, frames Eijun's flushed face in his hands, brings him down for a wet, sloppy, _dirty_ kiss that turns into many, shared breath and swallowed moans as his body jerks and his back arches off the mattress.

He comes hard, sobbing broken litanies into Eijun's warm wet mouth. He comes hard, dick twitching and thighs shaking as he paints his stomach white. He comes _hard_ , mind and vision wiped blank with only Eijun's sobs of "oh _fuck_ " to keep him grounded.

Eijun comes not long after him, voice hoarse, branding Kazuya with his own name. Makes a mess of Kazuya's hips and thighs, scratch marks and bruises and come and tired kisses pressed to the center of his heaving chest. His arms shake and he moans quietly through the aftershocks, and the fondness spreads through Kazuya's chest like warm honey.

"Come here, idiot," he murmurs through a wrecked throat. Eijun lowers himself as carefully as possible, but his arms give out halfway and he drops on Kazuya with a grunt, chest to chest and face pressed to the crook of his catcher's neck.

"Mmph, I'm worn out."

Kazuya makes a sleepy noise in the back of his throat and smiles, mouth pressing sweetly against the curve of Eijun's cheek. He nudges Eijun into a position that's more comfortable and fits an arm around his waist, holding him close despite the sweat cooling on their skin and the stickiness seeping between his thighs and coating his stomach. He knows he should clean up or they'll wake up gross, but Eijun's body is warm and solid and Kazuya doesn't think he's ever felt so sated after sex.

Eijun's sigh fans warm and light across his collarbones as he snuggles deeper into the mattress, settling his weight against Kazuya like a breathing blanket.

"Mm, we should do that again," Kazuya breathes, grinning when Eijun's thumb stops its unconscious caress over the naked ridge of his hipbone. He glances up with one eye, trying not to look too hopeful at the prospect but failing miserably.

"Yeah?"

"Mmhm. I know you'll take good care of me."

"You're such a shit, Miyuki Kazuya," Eijun says, but there's no bite to his words and no force to the hand that smacks sleepily at Kazuya's chest. He catches it in his own, brings it to lie flat over the skin above his heart, watches Eijun still as he counts its beats.

* * *

 _AN_ : I apologize if you find any errors or if this doesn't seem up to par for my usual stuff! I've been super stressed out about work and things and I didn't get to spend the amount of time on this that I wanted. I hope you like it anyway!

And as always please feel free to drop by my main blog kuramisawa or my writing blog trumpet-geek on tumblr if you want!


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